


a six-day exercise in denial

by sapphic_luthor



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, I couldn't remember if kelly knew kara was supergirl or not so uh. she does now, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Until she isn't, andrea just wants to kiss supergirl, in this house we ignore canon, kara is just vibing, lena is a broody angsty kind of jealous, whatever happens in the next episode just uhhhhhh ignore it when you read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphic_luthor/pseuds/sapphic_luthor
Summary: “Andrea Rojas kissed me today.”Three things happen at once: Alex, mid sip, chokes on her whiskey, and spits half of it into her hand, and in turn, all over the Scrabble tiles she’s holding, Kelly lets out a shocked “Oh my God” from where she stands at Kara’s fridge, and Lena goes absolutely still.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Kelly Olsen, Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen, Kara Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 178
Kudos: 3636





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this is the second work i’ve written surrounding the tangled mess that is kara/supergirl/andrea/jealous!lena and honestly it may feel very reminiscent of the other one but this is a bit longer and bit less happy-go-lucky, so strap in for some heavier gay drama friends

Kara places the E at the end of VIRTUE on the Triple Word Score space, then glances toward the night’s scorekeeper. Lena finishes a quick pull from her wine glass then eyes the play, carefully taking in the new letters on the board. She bites gently at her lip as she adds the points in her head and reaches for the scorepad, and Kara takes her moment of distraction to steel herself and blurt out the confession she’s been holding back for the better part of six hours.

“Andrea Rojas kissed me today.”

Three things happen at once: Alex, mid sip, chokes on her whiskey, and spits half of it into her hand, and in turn, all over the Scrabble tiles she’s holding, Kelly lets out a shocked _Oh my God_ from where she stands at Kara’s fridge, and Lena goes absolutely still.

“Andrea--” Alex’s eyes are wide as her brain tries to process all the questions trying to get out at once, and God, Kara hates this conversation so, so, much already.

“Okay, well not--” Kara starts to backtrack, but Alex steamrolls ahead, and suddenly everyone is speaking at once.

“Kara, you can’t just-- she _kissed--_ ” Alex sputters as she blindly dabs a napkin at her shirt. “Who--”

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t have opened like that--” Kara tries, bringing her hands up in an attempt to explain herself.

“Oh my God,” Kelly repeats as she scurries back to her spot on the couch next to Alex. She tosses a handtowel toward her girlfriend but faces Kara with an expression that reads as half-horror and half-excitement. “Oh my God, I called it.”

“Kara she’s your _boss--”_ Alex continues, voice rising.

“Well she kissed Supergirl, not Kara, so it’s not really--” Kara interrupts, before her head snaps toward Kelly. “Wait, what do you mean you _called_ it?”

“But those are still _your_ lips! _”_ Alex cries, and all Kara can do is groan and drop her face into her hands.

“ _Obviously,”_ Kara says through her fingers, matching her sister’s snarky tone, “But--”

Alex turns toward Kelly for support just in time to catch her girlfriend actively suppressing laughter. “Kelly! Why are you smiling?!”

“I’m sorry!” Kelly finally laughs, trying and failing to fight further giggles. “I’m so sorry, I know this is absolutely not the time to laugh, but it’s just so…”

“It’s fucked up, is what it is.” Alex finishes indignantly. “This is fucked up! People can’t just go around _kissing_ Supergirl.”

“Yes, Alex, I know that, but what am I supposed to _do?_ ” Kara lifts her head and whines, and Alex lets out a weary sigh.

“Okay, we have to figure this out. Now. You’re her protective detail, Kara. Did she-- God, please don’t tell me I have to drag the CEO of National City’s biggest media empire into the DEO to talk about personal boundaries and consent.”

“No! No it wasn’t like that at all, she sort of… told me she was going to, and I guess I… may have accidentally encouraged it--”

Kelly lets out a loud guffaw before clapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter while Alex whispers “ _Oh my God,_ ” to herself and reaches for her whiskey.

“I was caught off guard! I didn’t even know she liked women!” Kara argues, exasperated.

“I could have told you that,” Lena says quietly, and a silence follows her words as three sets of eyes zero in on her simultaneously.

“What?” Kara asks dumbly.

“That she likes women? I’ve known since we were kids.” Lena replies coolly. “We were at an all-girls boarding school together. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”

Kara’s mouth opens and closes several times, and when it becomes clear that she’s not going to accomplish much more than a bad fish impression, Kelly steps in to save her. “I would just like to say that I called this weeks ago. I definitely got a vibe,” and she is clearly proud of herself.

Alex just barely manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her girlfriend. “Great, okay. Lots of lesbians at boarding school. The great mystery of Andrea’s sexuality has been unraveled. Can we please talk about the important part here? Kara, what _happened?_ ”

“Um,” Kara starts. She glances toward Lena, who seems to have found something incredibly interesting to study on the scorecard. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t want to-- this is embarrassing, Alex.” It comes out as a whine, and the blonde slumps down into her chair and pulls her shoulders up toward her ears in an effort to shrink in her seat.

Years of powering through teenage-Kara’s tantrums have hardened Alex to the effect, however, and her tone doesn’t soften. “You’re gonna have to get over that then, because I kind of need to know, considering the DEO is in charge of her detail. But also, as your sister, I _really_ want to discuss this.”

“Yeah,” Kara breathes. “Yeah. You’re right. Um, okay.” Kelly leans forward and grabs the bottle that has “ _For Kryptonians Only Seriously Do Not Drink_ ” scrawled across it in the blue Sharpie of Alex’s scratchy handwriting, and carefully tops up Kara’s glass in an understanding move that Kara is eternally grateful for. She nods her thanks to Kelly, and turns back to her sister. “You know how there was that attempt on Andrea’s life today?”

Kelly exchanges the alien liquor for the Bordeaux that she and Lena have been working through, and turns toward the brunette with the bottle in hand, motioning as though to ask if she needs a refill, but finds Lena sitting stiffly in her seat with a cold look on her face. Her hands are clasped primly in her lap, and her eyes bore holes into the Scrabble board on the table-- there’s no indication that she’s hearing Kara or Alex at all.

“Yeah, of course,” Alex responds to her sister, and Kara launches into a story that Kelly can’t focus on. As badly as she wants to know exactly _how_ Supergirl found herself liplocked with Andrea Rojas, she catches herself tuning out to observe Lena instead. She’s stock-still, except for one tiny movement: the repeated clench of her jaw, over and over again, almost imperceptibly in the low light of Kara’s living room.

Kara continues speaking in the background. “So he was mostly incapacitated, Andrea was safe, and it was all fine,”

“And that’s when I showed up with the strike team. Right. He was a bitch to get into custody. But how does this--”

“I’m _getting_ there Alex, geez.” Kara laughs, and Kelly knows that her girlfriend is probably pouting like a child in response, but her focus is elsewhere.

“Lena?” Kelly questions gently. It’s quiet enough that it doesn’t interrupt the back-and-forth that Kara and Alex have begun, but it makes Lena jump like she’s been electrocuted. She sees the questioning look on Kelly’s face, and then glances down to the wine bottle in the older woman’s hand, and shakes her head.

“Oh, no thank you,” Lena answers Kelly quietly, and when she grabs her half-full wine glass, she downs it all in one go before standing abruptly and turning toward the kitchen. Kelly follows Lena’s movements with her eyes, and this is how she catches her in a brief moment that feels far too private for a game night among friends. The CEO sets her glass down gently and stands stiffly at the sink, spine rigid, both of her hands are placed flat against the countertop. Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath in, and when she exhales her eyes squeeze shut like she’s fighting off pain, and pieces start falling into place in Kelly’s head.

While Kara, loose-limbed and pink-cheeked from equal parts wine and embarrassment, is describing the moments that lead up to Andrea kissing her, Lena is all hard edges and sharp movements. Kelly nearly considers calling out to ask Lena what’s wrong, but then she hears, _“and then she kissed me,”_ and when Lena instantly white-knuckles the countertop in response, it hits Kelly like a freight train.

 _Oh, God._ She swivels back toward the Danvers sisters just in time to hear:

“Did you… I mean-- did you like… like it? Is this gonna be, you know, something you do now? Kiss women?” Alex asks, and the delivery is _atrocious_ , but the question she’s asking is clear.

Kara’s goes pink instantly. “I mean---”

“I’m going home.” Lena says it loudly and succinctly, and it yanks both Kara and Alex back to the awareness of the present. There’s a beat of quiet while Kara stumbles over the conversational whiplash.

“Oh, uh-- right now?” She asks. “We’re still-- the game…” Kara trails off lamely and glances down toward the Scrabble board, but even she knows that the game is long forgotten.

“I just got a text from Jess, and we’ve got a report due before the start of business on Monday, so I actually have to run back to the office.” Lena says with a tight smile as she grabs her purse and nods toward the game board. “So I suppose that means I forfeit. It’s all yours.”

Alex’s eyebrows pull together in confusion, and Kelly blinks, still trying to process the realization she’s just come to. _Lena and---_ She looks toward Kara, then back to Lena, and when she makes eye contact with the brunette, Kelly knows that the wide-eyed look on her face must give away her thoughts. Lena’s returning gaze is hardened and hurt and something more desperate-- it’s just a moment, just a second between them, but there’s a _please_ in Lena’s eyes that Kelly can’t ignore.

“Of course, of course,” Kelly says, trying to soften the blunt edge of Lena’s departure. “Be safe. Make sure you get some sleep.”

Lena lets out a barely-noticeable sigh of relief, shoots Kelly a _thank you_ glance, and says some quick and polite goodbyes from across the room before letting herself out. Kara’s got a doe-eyed look of concern on her face, and she looks like she’s seconds from standing from her seat to follow Lena. 

“That was—did that feel weird? Do you think she’s okay?” She asks it of Alex and Kelly, and Kelly’s heart nearly crumples at the complete confusion in Kara’s eyes, because _oh God, she really has no idea, does she?_

“Hazard of the job, being a Fortune 500 CEO and all,” Alex quips, but Kara can’t stop her teeth from worrying her bottom lip as she looks at the door that her friend has just unceremoniously disappeared through.

“Are you sure? Should I go after her?”

“ _No,_ ” Alex says forcefully “You are not getting out of this that easily.”

“But she seemed--”

“Kara, I swear to God, if you try to get out of this conversation right now, I will call J’onn and make him mind-read you.”

Kara’s eyes narrow toward Alex. “We both know he would never do that, but _fine._ ”

And just like that, Alex goes back to prying the story out of her sister, Kara goes back to doing her best to redirect away from the more embarrassing details, and Kelly is left to fight the ache that pulses in her heart when she thinks of the pain on Lena’s face just before she left.

**///**

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Andrea says, and Lena tries her absolute best to look genuine when she smiles back at the woman across from her. “CatCo has been incredible, but as far as my personal life…” She continues. “I really don’t have many friends in National City. I’m really, really, glad to be able to consider you one again. Thank you for inviting me.”

Lena softens against her will at the words, because God, Andrea sounds so genuine, and Lena is acutely aware of what it’s like to stumble into a new city with power and wealth and the crippling loneliness that accompanies it.

“I’m glad too,” Lena replies, and part of her really does mean it. “But how are you? Are you okay? I saw on the news…”

“Yeah,” Andrea laughs. “I’ll admit that having a trained assassin after me isn’t exactly ideal, but…” she trails off, smirking to herself as she chooses her next words. “I’m in very capable hands.” The double-entendre doesn’t escape Lena, and hot discomfort pinpricks across her skin as she tries to keep her expression neutral and choose her next words.

“Did I hear that you’ve got Supergirl as your bodyguard now?” Lena asks it with the innocence of an ignorant party, but the cold and angry thing deep in her core opens its eyes as memories from the previous night flash through her mind.

_“Andrea Rojas kissed me today.”_

_“I may have encouraged it.”_

“You heard correctly,” Andrea says with another smirk, but they both go quiet for a moment as the waiter brings the dishes they ordered to the table. “She’s… she’s something else.” Andrea says, and _Jesus_ , Lena thinks, _she’s practically swooning_. “You’ve worked with her, I hear. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

And Lena does. Supergirl’s aggressive energy, the intense commitment to heroism, the fierce passion for everything she does: all of it combines to create a presence that feels larger than life, and existing in her orbit can be nothing short of breathtaking. “The way rooms fall silent when she walks in?” Lena asks with a light laugh. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“Yes! Exactly that,” Andrea says as she reaches for her water glass. She pauses just before it reaches her lips, like she’s considering whether or not to say the next part. “And I mean, you’ve seen her in that suit. Her arms _,_ my God.”

Lena’s stomach clenches, but she offers a tight smile and a quick hum of acknowledgment before focusing intensely on the quinoa in her salad and praying the conversation stops where it is.

“Have you ever…” Andrea begins, but then stops as though she’s thought better of it. “Nevermind,” she finishes, and Lena knows exactly what’s coming next, and she _hates_ that she knows it. The sharp feeling from game night ignites bright and angry in her chest, and she feels a misplaced anger building in a part of her that she can’t control. The second time Andrea opens her mouth as if to speak, but says nothing, Lena realizes that this conversation is going to happen whether she wants it to or not, and she may as well lean into it.

“There’s very clearly something that you’re trying to work up the nerve to say,” Lena says, and it may not be malicious, but it’s direct in a way that contrasts harshly to the tone of their lunch thus far, and Andrea blinks twice before she gathers herself and sits up straighter to respond.

“Well. I’ve been trying to decide whether or not to tell you something,” Andrea admits.

Lena quirks an eyebrow and reminds herself to breathe. “What?”

“I may have… something going on. With Supergirl.” Andrea says carefully, and she watches Lena’s face as she says it.

The words are exactly what Lena expects, but a wave of nausea rolls over her just the same. “Something?” She asks, feigning confusion, because the part of her that’s Kara’s friend wants to know _exactly_ what happened, in Andrea’s words. Or at least, this is what she tells herself when she all but invites a blow that promises to hurt, and asks, “What do you mean?”

Andrea bites her lip. “We kissed.”

Lena swallows hard. Logically, she already knew that the kiss had happened. She _knew._ But there was something in _“we kissed”_ that gave it a substance she hadn’t quite considered: this wasn’t _“Andrea kissed me”_ and it wasn’t _“I kissed Supergirl.”_ This was a two-party action: _“We kissed,”_ with an unspoken implication of _“each other”_ at the end of it. Nightmarish images flash before Lena’s eyes, thoughts of Andrea’s fingers running down the sides of a royal blue suit,of Supergirl’s lips on Andrea’s lips, on her neck-- Lena feels her jaw involuntarily clench, and a dull roar presses against the inside of her head.

Andrea mistakes her silence for shock. “I know. I know!” She whispers excitedly, leaning closer. “Forgive me if it’s out of line, Lena, I know we’re not as close as we used to be. But I really needed to tell somebody.”

“No apology needed,” Lena grinds out, and she hopes to God that Andrea can’t see the way her hands are clenched in her lap. She wants to stop talking about this, wants to stop thinking about it and forget it entirely, but instead she digs the blade further into her own chest. “How did that happen?”

“You know the CatCo attack yesterday?” Andrea asks, and her eyes sparkle in a way that tells Lena she was desperately hoping she’d get the opportunity to tell the story. “We were at the office when everything went down. It was fine, honestly, Supergirl got to him before I was ever really in any danger, and then the DEO came to arrest him, but afterward something kind of… happened.”

“Something?” God, Lena doesn’t want to know. Her skin crawls as she considers all of the possible things that “something” might mean.

“I wanted to go back to work, so I was getting into the elevator to head up to my office when Supergirl came chasing after me to convince me that I should go home.”

“I would agree with that,” Lena posits. “You’d just had an attempt on your life.”

“I was _fine._ But Supergirl came running after me and stopped the elevator doors from closing, but she was all hot and out of breath from fighting the assassin, and she put her hand on my arm, and then the elevator doors closed behind her, leaving us in there together, so...” Andrea trails off, looking fiendishly proud of herself and shrugging. “It happened kind of organically.”

Lena feels like she’s going to throw up. She flounders for an appropriate response, but the roaring noise in her ears is gaining momentum, and if she clenches the fingers of her free hand any harder into her chair, she’s definitely going to tear the fabric of the seat.

“Well. That’s… something.” Is all she can come up with. Andrea doesn’t seem to hear the disquiet in the lack of response, and continues on.

“Do you know what the most-- well, not surprising, I suppose, but unexpected-- part was?” Her voice drops to a half-whisper. “She is so soft. When you only ever see her on the television throwing criminals around and deflecting bullets and lifting buildings, it’s very interesting to discover how _gentle_ she can be.” Andrea looks like she’s moments from getting lost in a memory that Lena wants nothing more than to forcefully rip from her own brain and set fire to.

Rationally, Lena knew that this was exactly where the conversation would lead, and she can’t pretend that she wasn’t thinking exclusively of this moment when she made the decision to text Andrea and ask her to lunch this morning. She’s severely aware that she has nobody to blame but herself for the way ache blooms in her chest and a slick kind of pain slithers through her veins when she thinks of Supergirl-- of Kara-- kissing Andrea.

Lena breathes something that sounds sort of like an _“Oh” of_ acknowledgement and starts frantically looking for exit strategies. 

“Do you think her skin can bruise?” Andrea asks idly as she pokes at her food.

“Only very briefly, if the injury is bad enough. For the most part it heals near-instantly.” Lena answers instinctively because she _is_ kind of an expert on Kryptonian biology, after that whole Sam/Reign incident.

“Shame,” Andrea sighs.

Lena cocks her head in curiosity. “Why?”

Andrea smirks crookedly and her eyes flash wicked before she spears a piece of broccoli with a little shrug. “Just daydreaming about what a rush it would be to leave hickeys on National City’s darling hero.”

“Ah,” Lena replies evenly, and the way rage flares in her core tells her that she needs to get out, _now._ She doesn’t even wait for the next lull in conversation before reaching for her phone and tapping a three-letter text to Jess: **SOS**

The rescue call comes less than 60 seconds later. Jess plays the part beautifully, providing Lena with various bogus lines like _disaster at an L-Corp lab,_ and _emergency board meeting_ and _management crisis_ , all of which end with Lena being desperately needed at the office right away. Lena chooses her favorite lie, repeats it to Andrea apologetically, and tries to leave quickly with an insincere promise to reschedule soon, but Andrea catches her by the wrist just as she’s about to turn for the door.

“Thank you again, really,” Andrea says. She pulls Lena into a hug and speaks into the space beside Lena’s ear. “And please don’t say anything to anyone? About the... Supergirl stuff.”

“Of course not,” Lena manages back, but her body is rigid with the desperation to _get out get out get out_ pounding through her head at a breakneck speed, and it’s not until she’s a full block from the restaurant that she finally remembers to breathe again.

///

Lena avoids Kara for the better part of a week.

Supergirl’s heroics are plastered across news headlines several times a day, _every day_ , and Lena thinks that seeing Kara in person while a clip of her bridal-carrying Andrea plays on a loop on the television behind her would be a bit too much self-flagellation, even for Lena.

On Tuesday, Andrea’s car explodes. Nobody is in it, and nobody is hurt, luckily, but a well-timed photo of Supergirl shielding Andrea from the debris hits the press, and suddenly rumours explode. Lena stares at it for almost a full minute when she first sees it in a National City News breaking report.

The shot itself is breathtaking: Supergirl, standing full and strong and tall, backlit by the explosion. She looks entirely unphased, jaw set and eyes hard as she glances over her shoulder toward the blast. The fabric of her cape is clutched in one hand to allow her to hold it aloft to cover Andrea-- Andrea, who has her face tucked into Supergirl’s collarbone and her arm around the hero’s waist. She looks terrified, but Supergirl’s free hand rests gently on Andrea’s visible wrist in act of comfort that also manages to look incredibly intimate. The smoldering car behind them sets a golden hue to the entire thing, and the image is nothing short of breathtaking. There’s talk of it being nominated for the World Press Photo of the Year. It is objectively beautiful, and it makes Lena want to fucking scream.

On Wednesday, several low-brow publications have re-purposed the image for a new agenda. Lena sees articles titled things like _Supergirl and CatCo CEO: a Heroic Save, or a Lovers Embrace?_ and _Girl of Steel’s Probable Foray into Sapphism: What We Know_. They all feature various zoomed-in analyses of Supergirl’s hand on Andrea’s wrist and Andrea tucked gently into Supergirl’s neck, and what should have been a standard moment of heroism snowballs into a story that has potential to dominate the city’s news cycle by the end of the week. 

She’s halfway through a bottle of Merlot when Andrea’s text arrives. The notification reads “media message,” but several glasses of wine blur Lena’s focus when she opens the notification, and she has no time to prepare herself. The photo hits her full in the chest. Andrea smiles with Supergirl at her back, looking half-amused and half-confused, and entirely beautiful. There’s something about that, about Kara’s willingness to be in this selfie, that digs under Lena’s skin in a way different from the car-bombing photo. A moment snapped in the midst of disaster is one thing, Supergirl has a job to do, and no control over what the press captures as long as lives are saved. But participating in Andrea’s childish insistence on centering everything around how many clicks she can get is something else entirely. It launches something bitter in Lena’s throat, and she takes her next drink directly from the bottle, as if eliminating the middle-man of the glass will lessen the ache. Moments later, she realized she missed Andrea’s accompanying message:

**Andrea:** Help me think of a caption?

Anger shoots down Lena’s back, exacerbated by the alcohol she’s consumed. She reminds herself that she’s fine with this, completely _fine_ and _not upset at all_ , and even then, it still takes most of her self control not to send back a response that would give away how very not-fine she was. In the end, she simply doesn’t respond. It’s the best compromise she can find between something sugary and noticably inauthentic like _You know I’m no good at social media!_ and what she’s really thinking, which is _feel free to go fuck yourself._ Andrea posts it anyway. It takes less than an hour for it to hit social media captioned “#Superguard” (a fucking horrible caption, in Lena’s drunk opinion) and then it’s everywhere. It somehow manages to show up on the Twitter feed of the official L-Corp account, sandwiched between Fortune 500 updates and upcoming science ventures from her competitors. Lena considers unplugging her router.

On Thursday morning, it becomes clear that Andrea’s photo fanned the flames of the rumour mill, and major news organizations start catching on. When Lena has to scroll past an article titled _All of the Ship Names You’ve Given Supergirl and Andrea Rojas, Ranked in Order of Best to Worst_ before she can find the day’s stock reports, she’s had enough. She starts a mental countdown until the moment she can leave the office and get right back to her new favorite coping mechanism-- drinking an inordinate amount of wine in a last-ditch effort to ignore her emotions.

She gets home by 9pm, relatively early for Luthor standards, and has barely managed to kick her heels off before a text from Kara vibrates her phone.

**Kara:** Busy?

She texts back _no_ almost instantly, expecting that Kara will call her. Instead, just as she’s about to pour her first glass of wine for the night, Supergirl touches down lazily on her balcony. The hero lets herself in via the always-open balcony doors, kicks her boots unceremoniously toward the wall, and pads toward Lena’s couch.

“I have had the _longest_ day,” She says, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail and disappearing into Lena’s bedroom. “Please tell me yours has been better,” she calls from the other side of the wall.

Lena stays quiet. Kara’s unannounced arrival isn’t especially surprising. They do this, sometimes: spend evenings together, make dinner, watch movies. Once, Kara had made the offhand comment _“I just really like existing in the same space as you,”_ and the sentiment had fluttered happily around Lena’s stomach for months. This is not how Lena feels tonight. Kara returns from Lena’s bedroom in a soft cotton shirt and jeans, the clothes she keeps at Lena’s home for nights exactly like tonight, and Lena _should_ feel her stresses lighten, like she usually does. She _should_ grab another glass and pour Kara a glass of the Kryptonian wine she has in the door of her fridge, she _should_ smile and sink into her couch and let Kara talk her into watching terrible television. Instead, memories of TMZ articles and elevator kisses make Kara’s nonchalant presence grate at Lena.

“This bodyguard job is killing me. It took forever to convince Andrea that she’s perfectly safe with the DEO for a few hours while I leave.” Kara says as she flops onto the couch, entirely unaware of the way Lena still stands stiffly at her kitchen counter. “Although,” she adds, “It has allowed me to see another side of Andrea. I know that she’s really sharing with Supergirl, and not Kara, but there’s something nice about being able to see the human side of her, to see her be vulnerable. It takes a bit of the bite out of the way she acts at work.”

Lena feels like the walls of her penthouse are closing in on her. Andrea’s words have been scratching at the inside of her brain for the last four days: _It’s interesting to discover how gentle she can be,_ and now Kara’s practically mirroring them. If she has to hear one more moment of whatever is going on between Kara and Andrea, Lena is going to suffocate.

“The press sure seems to be enjoying it too,” Kara half-laughs.

It’s too much.

Lena snaps.

For a moment, she feels like she’s having an out of body experience-- she sees herself in slow motion, and watches the next words leave her mouth in a tone so slick with venom that even Lillian would be proud.

“I’m surprised you’re here, instead of going down on Andrea in a CatCo office somewhere.”

Kara’s neck snaps up inhumanly fast to look square at Lena for the first time since she entered the apartment.

_“What?”_

Lena lets the silence linger for a moment before she looks up from her wine glass and across the room toward Kara, who looks _furious_. It’s satisfying down to Lena’s core, but it still doesn’t quell the ire pulsing through her veins.

“I’ve spoken to Andrea,” Lena says coldly, and _God,_ she’s angry. Now that she’s opened this floodgate, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop it. “She told me all about how seriously you’re taking your bodyguard position.”

Kara stands from the couch, and her voice comes out low and even as she walks toward Lena. “What did she tell you?”

“Oh I heard all about how _gentle_ you were with her in the elevator,” Lena snaps, but the look on the blonde’s face slows her momentum a fraction. So Lena has maybe, just possibly, overstepped a bit.

“And you think we _slept together?_ She’s my _boss_.” Kara hisses.

“Andrea is Kara’s boss, not Supergirl’s,” Lena shoots back.

“Yeah, and she’s Supergirl’s _responsibility,_ Lena, I’m supposed to protect her,which would maybe even be worse.” Kara’s voice rises. “Not to mention the moral complications and the level of deception-- if you honestly think I’m capable of--” 

And Lena doesn’t, not for a second. She knows Kara, knows that she’s honorable and good and incapable of something so immoral. But she’s still angry, and Kara’s just handed her something that Lena can grab and run with. “Believe me, I’m incredibly aware of the deception.” She snaps. It’s a low blow, on Lena’s part; that particular wound was brutally deep and long to heal. Threatening to reopen it is irresponsible, but the thought of Kara and Andrea together is still scorching through Lena’s psyche and leaving recklessness in its wake.

“Lena.” Kara fades, just for a moment, a product of the leftover guilt that she’s never quite been able to shake off. She rounds the kitchen island purposefully. “What is this about?”

Lena’s fingers clench around the bowl of her wine glass, and she speaks without thinking. “I’m so fucking sick of seeing you with her.”

Kara’s lips part in surprise, but then her eyes flash and her brows knit together and the tone of her voice drops to something dangerous as she advances toward the brunette. “Is this-- this is all because you’re _jealous?_ ”

 _Jealous._ The word knocks the air from Lena’s lungs. Suddenly it makes sense, and when the memories of the week come rushing back at her, she feels like her knees might buckle. Anger clouding her vision when she saw the photo of Andrea wrapped around Supergirl; the sick flip her stomach did when she learned about the kiss; how her skin prickled hot and sharp when Andrea spoke of Supergirl’s gentleness. And now that Kara’s put a word to it, a name so brutally, obviously, correct, Lena feels like a fool.

“I…” She’s freefalling, and she feels the fight drain from her but she can’t stop it.

Kara takes a last step forward, pressing into Lena’s personal space, forcing her back against the kitchen counter. The low timbre of her voice plays like smoke. “Tell me you weren’t jealous, Lena.”

“I can’t,” Lena whispers. Kara’s eyes drop to her lips, and Lena’s breath catches in her throat. She manages a broken exhale and sets her wine glass down on the counter by her side.

Kara leans forward, pressing her hands to the white marble of the countertop on either side of Lena. She drags her gaze from Lena’s lips up to her eyes, and Lena nearly forgets how to breathe.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” Kara says softly, and they’re close enough that her breath plays gently across the corner of Lena’s mouth. “You’re nervous.”

Lena swallows. She isn’t sure how she managed to lose all semblance of control in the blink of an eye, but with Kara in her personal space and looking at her like she’s something to be devoured, she doesn’t think she cares.

“I’m not,” Lena lies, and Kara calls her on it by reaching up and threading her fingers through the hair at the base of Lena’s neck and pulling their mouths together _hard_.

Lena kisses her, kisses through the way her brain goes completely blank for a moment, and she actually _does_ stop breathing, until Kara’s teeth close on her bottom lip and tug, and then the air in her lungs comes out all at once in a high pitched whimper. Kara takes the opportunity to lick at the bow of Lena’s lip, and then Lena’s hands find the blonde’s face, and she’s kissing back and pulling Kara into her, and all she can think is closer closer closer Kara needs to be closer-- and then it’s over.

Kara pulls away abruptly, fingers still splayed across the back of Lena’s neck in a move that feels part gentle and part possessive and is absolutely intoxicating.

“Andrea lied, you know.” Kara breathes, and no, Lena doesn’t know, she doesn’t know anything but Kara’s hand on her neck and Kara’s thigh pressed between her own and Kara’s pupils blown wide.

“About what?” She answers, and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath and get her heart rate under control.

Kara pulls lightly at her hair, drawing Lena’s head to the side, then drops to press open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of the brunette’s neck. She drags her tongue from the column of Lena’s throat to the soft spot where her jaw meets her ear, then closes her teeth on pale skin. A broken whimper falls from Lena’s lips, and then she feels Kara smile against her neck. “I’m not gentle.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second (and final) part, for everyone who asked!

_“I’m not gentle.”_

Lena swears she can feel the words drip hot down her neck, each syllable something tangible and slick across her skin that Kara drags teeth over and chases with her tongue. It knocks the air directly out of her lungs and leaves her aching with an all-consuming kind of want that runs so deep it’s nearly painful. She reaches out, gets an arm around Kara’s neck, lands a hand on her waist, but it’s not _enough_ \-- she can’t touch enough, can’t feel enough, can’t get enough of the way Kara’s breathing sounds when it’s coming fast and shallow like this. And Kara feels it too, Lena knows. It’s clear in the way she’s pressing Lena harder and harder into the countertop, how the pointed drags of her tongue across Lena’s collarbone devolve into open-mouthed kisses across her chest.

Lena’s body buzzes, and there’s an energy running across the planes of her skin in waves, sourced from each of the places where Kara touches her. Every bite, every stroke of fingers at the base of her neck sends charges ricocheting through her, and they build and intertwine and push Lena to a sensory intensity that leaves her lightheaded. Kara reaches for the exposed skin between Lena’s waistband and top but her hand is cold from where it was pressed to the stone of the countertop and Lena is a livewire; the moment the chill of Kara’s fingertips meets the heat of her hip a circuit completes itself and _need_ rockets through Lena like the shatter of a lightning strike. She pushes with one hand and pulls with the other, yanks Kara _hard_ , spinning them a full 180 degrees and pinning Kara into the very same countertop she’d just been pressed against.

Kara’s lips part in shock, and Lena doesn’t even allow time to admire the way her own lipstick is smeared across the blonde’s bottom lip before she reconnects their mouths, desperate and hungry. The soft roll of Lena’s tongue against Kara’s is lust-soaked and obscene, and Kara makes little noises into her mouth that make Lena’s brain trip over itself, and it’s hot and blinding and _delicious--_ and then she remembers.

Lena pulls back from the kiss and has to press a hand flat against the blonde’s chest and use it to push herself away, because disconnecting from kissing Kara is a lesson in self-control that Lena is only prepared to fail.

“Wait. Look at me,” she demands, and Kara does. 

“What?” Kara breathes, and her face is serious, but she shifts when she says it, pressing the leg nestled between Lena’s forward and up. And maybe Lena gasps, maybe a free hand flies up to Kara’s shoulder for balance and she lets herself rock down against Kara’s thigh a bit, but Lena is _goal-oriented,_ god damnit, and she will not let Kara distract her from what’s important.

“You still--” She starts, but Kara flexes her thigh then, and it’s pressed so firmly to Lena that she can _feel_ the muscle move, and her eyes flutter closed-- just for a second. “You still have some explaining to do,” she manages, and Lena’s proud of herself for forming a coherent sentence. If she’s unconsciously clutching at the shoulder of Kara’s shirt like it’s her last lifeline as she says it, so be it. She will allow herself this weakness, because Kara’s lower lip is caught tightly between her own teeth like she’s moments from losing a very similar battle.

“Okay,” Kara replies, and in one fluid motion she leans forward and lifts Lena entirely off the ground, spinning them a second time and seating the brunette firmly on the kitchen island. “What do I need to explain?” The casual display of strength is staggering, and Lena’s brain rushes from the flex of Kara’s bicep to the palms now settled high on her thighs to the way Kara presses forward into the space between her legs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“You kissed her,” Lena blurts, because she needs to say it now or she won’t say it at all. Kara’s face goes serious.

“You mean--”

“Andrea,” Lena says.

Kara stays quiet for a second, and then asks, “Do you really want to hear about that?”

_No._

“Yes.”

“Why?” Kara’s palms slide inward a bit, and she experimentally flexes her thumbs against the inside of the brunette’s thighs when she asks it. “When we could just keep doing this instead?”

A bolt of anger flashes hot through Lena and she _hates_ how delectable it feels-- she hates that it slides along the path Kara’s hands have just taken across her skin, hates how turned on she already is. And then the anger of it folds back in on itself as jealousy, returns to Lena twice as thick and builds into something bigger, something that clouds her vision red and sets her jaw hard and unforgiving. Because Kara is between her legs, lips kiss-swollen and stained with the color Lena’s wearing, but still has the audacity to ask _why_ it’s important that she kissed Andrea?

“You know why,” Lena snaps, and the sudden venom in it brings Kara blinking back to the present.

“Lena, I don’t--” She leans out of Lena’s space, just a bit, unintentionally sliding her hands down Lena’s thighs as she moves away. It sends goosebumps across Lena’s skin, and that ratchets her anger up another notch, because _fuck,_ she hates that her body is screaming _yes yes yes_ while her brain is trying desperately to make sense of the facts first.

“Just fucking tell me,” Lena says, and then she curls her fingertips into the meat of Kara’s shoulder and lunges forward with a desperation that she knows won’t leave a single mark on Kryptonian skin. And that’s decidedly unfair, she thinks as she drags her lips up Kara’s neck, that she can’t even be properly _jealous_ like this _,_ that she can’t leave heated red fingernail marks on the skin of Kara’s shoulder, can’t suck dark bruises from the place on Kara’s collarbone that she knows would only barely be covered by Supergirl’s suit.

“She kissed me. In the elevator,” Kara gasps, because then the sharp of Lena’s teeth are on her jugular and a hand pushes roughly at her back, pressing the blonde closer while lips suck hard at the skin of Kara’s throat, possessive and angry.

“And you kissed her back.” Lena accuses it between bites, hisses it into the muscle where Kara’s collarbone meets her neck as her hands slip beneath the shirt.

“I…” Kara tries to ignore the fingertips on her bare skin. “I let her kiss me,” she admits, and Lena’s reaction is immediate and visceral. She all but growls into Kara’s mouth, knocking their teeth together in a kiss that almost hurts, pulling her nails roughly across the expanse of Kara’s back. The sensation shoots shivers down to Kara’s toes, and without thinking she slides her hands behind the crooks of Lena’s knees and _pulls_ , dragging Lena to the edge of the counter and connecting their bodies in a way so intimate that Lena’s breath gets instantly caught in her throat. “I let her kiss me,” Kara repeats, firm, and Lena is still angry, wants to tell Kara with her lips and her teeth and her tongue just how much she hates the idea of Andrea kissing her, how she doesn’t want to hear it _twice_ , but then Kara says “... and then I ran,” and it’s such a sudden and unexpected followup, it strikes Lena as so utterly ridiculous, that she can’t help herself-- she lets out a bark of surprised laughter.

“You _what?_ ”

Kara pulls back just enough to look at the brunette’s face, indignant at the barely-contained amusement in the other woman’s tone. “What was I supposed to do? I called Alex and told her I had to go, but--”

“So you... She kissed you and then you just left?” Lena asks, and her anger has dissipated almost as fast as it came, replaced swiftly with complete confusion.

Kara can’t understand the bewilderment in her tone. “Uh, yeah. The agency sent J’onn to keep an eye on Andrea so... What was I supposed to do? She _kissed_ me, Lena.” Kara repeats, and her tone is short and defensive.

Lena’s hands fall from where they were pressed against the slope of Kara’s back, and when she extracts herself from the blonde’s personal space, the desperate magnetic thing that pulls her uncontrollably toward Kara fades a fraction. “Wait, did you not…” Lena starts, “...weren’t you---?” but she doesn’t finish that thought either, just places her palms flat on the counter behind her and leans back on her hands, furrowing her brow in confusion like she’s got so many questions that she can’t decide where to start.

Genuine confusion touches Kara’s face. “Didn’t I what?”

Lena blinks. God, she doesn’t want to ask this.

“Don’t you like her?” Lena says abruptly, and she hates that for all of the thought she’s given this conversation, she wasn’t able to come up with a better way to ask; something that doesn’t sound so high-school and insecure and vulnerable.

“Do I…” Kara starts to repeat Lena’s words back to her, like maybe the feel of them in her own mouth will make more sense than what she’s hearing. And then her brain catches up, and her face does something that looks a bit like irritation and a lot like surprise. “You think that I--”

“The press--” Lena interjects.

“The press,” Kara says, talking over her instantly, “is always looking for a story. You know that better than anyone.” Kara’s tone holds the incredulity of somebody who can’t believe what they’re hearing. “Lena,” she says, and it’s softer than anything they’ve said to each other since she arrived. “Did you honestly think…?”

Lena blinks, then, because: _Oh. She’s been stupid, hasn’t she?_

“I guess I just-- the photo of the bombing, and…” Lena lets herself trail off, because all she has are weak excuses at best, and she knows it.

Kara sees the fight drain from Lena, and then the shadow of a smirk whispers across her face. She steps forward again, presses herself in earnest between Lena’s legs, and lets her hands land softly on the brunette’s hips. “Lena,” she whispers again, eyes darkening.

“What?” Lena breathes it back, barely-audible, because if Kara doesn’t stop rubbing little circles on her skin beneath her shirt and saying her name like _that_ she’s going to pass out right here on her own kitchen counter.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d want Andrea,” Kara murmurs, and she shifts to ghost her knuckles across the soft of Lena’s stomach before sliding her hand between the brunette’s thighs. “As if I haven’t spent months thinking about what you must taste like.” 

It nearly ruins Lena. She pulls in a stuttering gasp at the touch, and then Kara’s fingers start playing easy over the linen of her dress pants, and lust surges through her body with such intensity that Lena thinks her arms might collapse beneath her. She pushes forward off of her hands and brings them to the sides of Kara’s face instead, but she’s only dimly aware of her own actions because Kara’s hand is cupped against her now and she’s arching into it and _God_ she’s desperate for firmer contact.

Kara bends forward until their faces meet, pressing her lips to the corner of to Lena’s mouth while her hand moves. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” she whispers, and it’s so gentle, so _Kara,_ so polar opposite from Lena’s possessive desperate touches just a moment ago. But the shadows of Andrea and elevators and TMZ articles still float somewhere in Lena’s mind, and she can’t stop herself from wondering, through a soft gasp:

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes have fallen closed, so she feels rather than sees Kara’s response. The blonde’s free hand comes up to cover Lena’s where it’s settled against her cheek, and Kara pulls her hand away just far enough to turn and place a kiss directly in the center of Lena’s palm.

“Let me show you,” Kara says, and she smirks against Lena’s hand before she guides it straight down, past the planes of a toned stomach and directly beneath her waistband, and Lena lets out an immediate gasp, because _God_ , Kara’s _so_ wet. They breathe in at the same time, and Lena’s eyes fly open just in time to see Kara’s fall closed as she breathes out a smug “See?”

Lena moves her fingers and Kara lets out a breathy little whimper against Lena’s lips that runs white-hot through her veins. The feeling overwhelms Kara so suddenly that her right hand stills against Lena while her left slams hard against the marble of the countertop in an attempt to stabilize herself. Hairline fractures appear beneath the pressure of her palm but Lena doesn’t stop, barely even notices, because the muscles of Kara’s neck are tensing and begging to be kissed and Lena can’t think of anything except the pretty noises Kara’s making and how Kara feels like silk and how Kara’s grinding against her hand and Lena feels so drunk on it all, and then---

Kara stiffens suddenly, eyes flying open and head snapping to the side, and Lena’s heart drops because she recognizes that look, knows it from every time Kara’s cut a brunch short or bailed in the middle of a game night.

“God, please don’t say--” she starts.

“It’s--- I have to go. I’m so sorry….” Kara apologizes, trailing off and bringing a finger up to press the comms piece still settled in her ear. “Yes. I’m coming,” she says succinctly to whoever is on the other end, and then winces a bit at her word choice, because the irony of it while Lena’s hand is literally _still_ _in her pants_ is not lost on either of them. “God I’m sorry, but they only call when it’s an emergency--”

“I get it,” Lena breathes out, and when she pulls her hand from beneath Kara’s waistband she drags wet fingertips over Kara’s stomach, relishing in the way the hero shudders beneath the touch. “Go.”

Kara takes a breath and steps back from the counter, and a wave of heat runs through Lena at the sight of her. With her mussed hair and pink cheeks and light imprints of Lena’s lip color patterned across her neck, Kara looks absolutely undone, and a possessive thrill shoots through Lena at the knowledge that she’s the one responsible.

“This…” Kara starts, motioning between them. “I’m-- we’re not done, I promise,” is all Kara gets out, and then she moves like she’s about to lean in for a kiss before she leaves, but Lena puts out a hand to stop her.

Lena’s voice comes out low and thick. “Kara, if I kiss you right now, I’m going to have a hard time stopping. And I really don’t want to be responsible for whatever is on the other end of that emergency.”

Kara’s eyes darken, and she bites her lip as she gives a quick nod. “Right. Good call. Okay. Um, I’ll… see you later,” and then in a light gust of air she’s gone, and Lena’s left sitting on her kitchen counter, heartbeat too fast and fingers still slick, stunned by the whiplash of it all.

///

Lena’s fulfilling expectations-- socializing with the elite and irritating of National City, floating around the Obsidian launch party in too-high heels and a backless dress that leaves her just a bit too cold for comfort-- when she sees the blond of Kara’s hair through the crowd. She shifts, moves to get a better look, but then Kara is nowhere to be found and instead Supergirl is there, stepping from behind a tall column all broad shoulders and bravado, and Lena’s mouth goes dry. 

They haven’t seen each other since Kara left her apartment the night before last, leaving Lena breathing heavy and clutching at her countertop trying to steady her body and right her brain after the… _whatever_ it was, that had happened between them. Supergirl catches Lena’s eye from across the room, gives her the smallest of smirks, and Lena is so suddenly taken with memories of Kara’s hand between her legs and Kara’s tongue against her neck that she almost doesn’t notice Andrea sidling up next to her.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Andrea says, leaning forward to kiss Lena on the right cheek and then the left. “You look stunning.”

Lena smiles emptily, moves her mouth to say “Thank you” when an all-too-familiar voice interrupts brusquely.

“The stage has been secured, Miss Rojas. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Andrea?” Andrea responds to Supergirl, and her voice lilts in a playful way that makes Lena bristle.

Supergirl plasters on a smile and folds her hands at the small of her back, says, “Of course, Andrea,” and though it may be petty, Lena takes satisfaction in how forced it sounds.

“Are you enjoying the event so far, Supergirl?” Andrea asks, stepping in close and settling a hand against Supergirl’s bicep. Lena does her resolute best not to watch, tries her hardest not to see the way the hero tenses, inadvertently flexing the muscle beneath Andrea’s fingertips. A familiar prickle of jealousy ignites in Lena’s stomach, and she snaps her eyes to Supergirl’s face to watch for her response.

“I’m just here to keep you out of harm’s way,” she responds diplomatically, and Lena smirks at the way Supergirl moves to cross her arms, effectively pulling herself out of Andrea’s grasp. “And uh-- nice to see you, Miss Luthor,” she adds, nodding her head toward Lena quickly.

“Great to see you as well, Supergirl,” Lena replies smoothly, and when the tips of Supergirl’s ears go pink, Lena only barely manages to bite back a smile. For all of Kara’s grand confidence and aggression when she was pinning Lena to her kitchen furniture, Andrea’s presence seems to have knocked Supergirl off-balance.

“Let’s get started, then,” Andrea says as she turns to walk toward the speaking platform at the head of the room, touching a hand to Supergirl’s shoulder as she passes. Lena takes the opportunity to capitalize on the hero’s obvious nerves, and she makes sure to step close into Supergirl’s space as she moves to follow Andrea.

“I’ll see you later,” Lena murmurs, and the cadence of her voice promises something more intimate.

“Right. Of course.” Her tone is clipped and professional, but Supergirl’s gaze flicks to Lena’s lips as she speaks, and the brunette’s breath catches lightly as memories of urgent kisses and firm hands flash before her eyes.

Andrea takes the stage moments later, stepping behind a dark wood podium and preparing to address the crowd. Lena hopes to God she isn’t blushing as she makes her way toward the front of the room. She finds a break in the crowd just off-center of the stage and steps into the space, trying her best to blend into the crowd as the lights dim and the stage behind Andrea lights up with the beginnings of an elaborately planned presentation.

Lena loses focus quickly. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t help the way her eyes wander to the audience every few moments. The Obsidian North promotional clip playing behind Andrea splashes technicolor across the faces of the guests, and Lena scans them casually, looking for a familiar soft blonde profile. The darkness of the room challenges her eyes, and she begins to wonder if Supergirl is even still in attendance, when suddenly a hand lands low on the bare skin of her back. Lena turns and finds herself face to face not with Supergirl, but Kara. Her lips part in surprise, brain catching up to the quickchange just a second too late to respond.

“You look incredible,” Kara says, leaning in close to be heard over the speech Andrea has launched into. A thrill shoots down Lena’s spine when she feels the soft exhale of Kara’s words against her collarbone. She regrets that she doesn’t have time to respond-- her attention snaps back toward the stage as she hears her own name spoken into the microphone.

“And an enormous thank-you to Lena Luthor, my friend and partner in this endeavor. Without her unfailing support and L-Corp’s technological prowess, Obsidian North wouldn’t be nearly the giant it is today.” There’s enthusiastic applause, and Lena smiles politely as she feels the eyes of the room on her. Kara’s fingertips fall from her back and she raises a hand to wave cordially to the room, shaking her head at the display of praise.

“And to another hero,” Andrea continues, “without whom I wouldn’t even be here tonight to spend the evening with you all… Supergirl.”

Kara groans. “Oh, God.”

“Where are you, Supergirl?” Andrea says, smiling into the microphone. “Let’s get her up here!”

Kara is gone from Lena’s side in a flash, and seconds later, Supergirl is skidding to a halt just at the edge of the stage. The applause from the audience is overwhelming, but when Supergirl climbs the few steps up the platform and crosses toward Andrea, her usual swagger is replaced with an uncharacteristic reluctance. Andrea, however, is absolutely beaming. She steps out from behind the podium, moving closer to slide an arm around Supergirl’s waist, laughing as it pulls a few suggestive hoots and whoops from the audience.

Lena’s jaw clenches. Supergirl stands still in an effort to maintain a sense of professionalism, but then Andrea’s hand slips from off of her hip to catch Supergirl's hand and interlock their fingers. Lena’s vision blurs as she watches Andrea raise their linked hands triumphantly, reveling in the audience’s enthusiastic reaction.

“Give it up for my Girl of Steel!” Andrea laughs, and it’s clear that she’s joking, but the word choice flips a possessive anger in Lena’s stomach all the same. _Fuck this,_ she thinks. Whatever did or didn’t happen between she and Kara, whatever it meant or didn’t mean, she has no interest in watching Andrea throw herself at Supergirl for the rest of the night. Supergirl begins to carefully extricate herself from Andrea’s grasp, but Lena is already turning on her heel and letting the sting of jealousy propel her as she strides purposefully through the tightly packed crowd.

She takes a deep breath when she finally breaks through the thick of it and makes it to the high-ceilinged entry hall of the venue. If she calls her driver now, she’ll be out of this disaster of an event in three, four minutes tops, and she can go home to angrily drink several glasses of wine and agonize over what she should say to Kara. She’s just reaching for her purse to grab her phone when a firm hand catches her by the wrist.

“Miss Luthor,” Supergirl says, and Lena pauses. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m going home, Supergirl,” she says, and it comes out a bit snappier than she intended. She softens her tone with a gentle sigh. “I’m not really in the mood to watch Andrea drape herself across you all night.”

Supergirl crosses her arms, regarding Lena quietly for a moment. When she speaks, there’s a hint of something playful hiding under the heroic tone. “And you weren’t even going to say goodbye?”

“You seemed busy,” Lena deadpans, and she doesn’t mean for it to sound quite so snide, but Supergirl’s arms are crossed, and Lena got caught up trying not to think about Andrea’s hand wrapped around strong biceps earlier in the night.

“Miss Luthor--” Supergirl starts, but then her voice goes gentle and the formalities fall away, and it’s Kara speaking, not Supergirl. “Lena, you know it’s not--”

“I know,” Lena sighs. “But seeing her hands all over you is just…” she glances away as she trails off, at a loss for the right words to explain the needling feeling beneath her skin at the idea of somebody else touching Kara.

“I had no idea you were so possessive,” Kara says, and when Lena looks up at her, she sees the glint of something smug in blue eyes. And then Kara’s voice goes low, and when she speaks, it feels distinctly more intimate. “But how do you think I feel?” Lena’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as Kara goes on. “Listening to businessmen and tech moguls fall all over themselves trying to impress you,” she reaches a hand out. “And watching you walk around all night in _this_ dress...” she draws a finger from Lena’s throat down to her clavicle, tracing the halter neckline. Lena’s heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde leans in close, and the warm exhale of words sends shivers down her spine. “I can’t stop thinking about touching you,” Kara whispers.

The words pull deep at Lena’s core, and her body buzzes at the sudden intensity between them. Her lips part to release a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and through hooded eyes she meets Kara’s gaze. “Prove it.”

The challenge barely leaves Lena’s lips before Kara’s dragging her down a roped-off hallway and pressing her to the nearest hard surface; Lena’s back hits the pillar and she lets out a sharp gasp when her skin meets the cold of the marble. Her purse falls to the floor and Kara steps into her, slotting a thigh between Lena’s and effectively pinning her to the stone column. She drops her lips to Lena’s shoulder, her neck, her jaw, the spot just below her ear that always makes her gasp, and all Lena can do is clutch at the blonde’s arm and reach for her waist, fingers digging firmly into the flexible blue material of the suit. It’s this-- the feel of Kryptonian fabric beneath her fingertips, that brings Lena back to the present, and she briefly pulls back.

She breathes deeply, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes open and a fierce thrill shoots through her, because _God,_ Kara looks so intense like this. Kara Danvers had been bright eyes and teasing smirks and fervent kisses in Lena’s kitchen; but this feels like something different. This is Supergirl, standing a bit taller in her suit, cocksure and gallant. There’s a noticeable power in each of her movements, and to see the city’s hero like this, eyes lust-dark and _wanting_ , gives Lena the most delicious kind of headrush. She arches her back off of the marble, pressing herself flush against Supergirl and pulling the other woman’s face to her own with both hands.

Supergirl’s hand darts out, her palm cracking the stone of the pillar beside Lena’s head as she allows herself to be pulled forward to return the kiss. “What if they notice you’re gone,” Lena gasps through shuddering breaths.

“I guess I’d better be quick,” Supergirl quips, punctuating the statement with a drag of her tongue across the hollow of Lena’s neck that makes the brunette think of several decidedly _not_ quick things she’d like to do instead.

“Someone could find us,” Lena murmurs, and she doesn’t know why she even attempts the weak excuse, because she so desperately wants this _._

“Then I guess you’ll have to stay quiet,” Supergirl says, and when she closes her teeth gently on a red-painted lower lip, every last bit of rational argument dissolves from Lena’s mind.

“Well that doesn’t seem fair,” Lena replies playfully, but then Supergirl drops to her knees, and any sense of joking is gone as Lena briefly forgets how to breathe. The hero wraps a hand around Lena’s calf, sliding gently upward and watching as the drag of her palm pulls a shiver from the brunette. She looks up from beneath dark lashes, and there’s fire in her eyes.

“Are you ready?”

“God, yes,” Lena lets out in a rushed exhale. The blonde bites her lip at the sound, unable to hide the quick grin that flashes across her face, and just like that, she’s Kara all over again. She leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Lena’s knee, and then her lips travel higher and higher, tracing the curve of Lena’s leg. Kara lightly scratches her nails up the back of Lena’s other leg, gathering the hem of the dress and hitching it up to the waist.

Lena watches, lips parted and breath coming heavy, as Kara leaves electric lip prints up the inside of one of her thighs. She feels a light tug at her other calf, and then Kara’s pulling Lena’s knee over her shoulder and looking up at her _like that,_ and Lena has to let her weight fall back against the pillar, because she doesn’t know how much longer her legs will be able to support her.

With one hand resting gently atop the thigh hiked over her shoulder and the other holding the bundle of fabric of Lena’s dress, Kara presses a hot kiss to the soaked cloth of Lena’s underwear, and the high-pitched whimper that escapes Lena is absolutely obscene. Kara moves again, drags her lips against the material, and feels the press of Lena’s heel into her back, urging her closer.

Lena feels like she’s been set alight. The marble behind her is ice-cold but her skin burns hot, her cheeks flushed red as Kara pulls away from Lena’s center to lay wet kisses across the top of one thigh and then the other, following soft pale skin just to the edge of where Lena needs her most and then back again. It’s _torturous,_ and as much as she knows that Kara’s probably excellent at the slow-and-steady of this, she’s going to snap if Kara doesn’t touch her soon.

“Kara, _please,_ ” she groans, and Kara responds with a sly smirk.

“How is it that I’m the one on my knees, and somehow it’s still you that’s begging?” Kara jokes. Lena doesn’t even have the opportunity to be properly annoyed, because then Kara’s fingers are falling from Lena’s leg and reaching to pull her underwear aside, and when she leans forward and presses her tongue between Lena’s legs, the world nearly stops.

Lena’s head slams back against the marble behind her and her hands fly frantically to Kara’s shoulders, Kara’s hair, Kara’s arms-- she ends up with one hand tangled in blonde waves and the other clutched around the wrist at her hip, desperate for some kind of anchor as Kara’s mouth moves against her. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lena gasps, and the word echoes around the acoustics of the empty corridor. She’s dimly aware that she’s supposed to be staying quiet, but Kara’s tongue is running soft strokes against her and matching the cadence of the way her hips roll, and Lena’s glowing with the heat of it, breath coming fast and light.

Kara revels in the high-pitched little keening noises she earns when she flattens her tongue against just the right spot, gets lost in the way Lena grinds urgent and messy against her, legs beginning to tremble at the sensation of it. It’s fast and hot and Lena’s decadent like satin against her tongue, and Kara can’t get enough. Lena’s whimpers turn to moans, and the hand in Kara’s hair pulls roughly, clutches harder harder harder as her body winds tight beneath the finesse of Kara’s mouth. She doesn’t slow; just rolls her tongue against soft skin over and over, drinking in the pretty noises Lena makes as she’s pushed closer and closer to release.

Lena’s eyes open then, and chest heaving, she drops her gaze: the sight alone almost puts her over the edge. Some part of her thinks about the picture the two of them must paint: the city’s Girl of Steel on her knees, head buried between Lena’s legs; Lena, dressed rucked up around her waist, smudged lipstick and sex-dark eyes on the woman in front of her. It’s the most deliciously obscene thought, and it’s all almost too much, because Lena’s so close so close-- and then Kara’s rhythm picks up just a bit more, and Lena starts losing control, her movements going erratic and desperate.

She’s all but forgotten that she still has hold of Kara’s forearm until she feels the grip at her waist loosen: the blonde shifts, releasing the fabric of the dress so that she can grab Lena’s hand instead. Kara’s mouth doesn’t stop moving against her, and for a half-second their hands just tangle clumsily, but then their fingers intertwine. Kara looks up, locks blue eyes to green, and Lena shatters.

For one long _excruciating_ moment, she’s suspended in time, silent and breathless and completely undone, the scope of her entire world distilled down to the feeling of Kara’s lips against her body, Kara’s hand in her hand, Kara’s eyes on her eyes. And then the universe ticks mercifully forward, and she tumbles over the edge, clutching tight to Kara in her ecstasy. For a few seconds she sees only in lights and darks, and her body jolts as Kara coaxes aftershocks out of her with little kitten licks.

It takes Lena several long seconds to breathe normally again, and even longer to release the vice grip she holds in Kara’s hair. Kara lets go of her underwear, gently settling the silk back into place before carefully unhooking Lena’s leg from around her shoulder and leaning back on her heels with a smirk. She stands without separating their hands, and when they’re face to face, fingers still slotted together, it speaks to something intimate.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come undone?” Kara asks with awe in her voice, and somehow, of everything they’ve just done, it’s this that makes Lena blush the hardest.

“It’s hardly fair that I can’t attest to the same for you yet,” Lena replies. Her legs are still weak beneath her, but Kara’s eyes drop to her lips as she speaks, and that same fire burns through her as she remembers how close they had gotten in her kitchen just two nights prior.

“Keyword _yet_ ,” Kara emphasizes.

“The launch is over in 90 minutes,” Lena begins, but Kara interrupts.

“--but you and I are leaving early. The plus side of being Supergirl is that there’s not a single force on this planet that can stop me.”

Lena bites her lip, trying and failing to fight back a sly smile at Kara’s joke. “You’re sure you don’t have to stay and keep your girlfriend Andrea safe?” she teases. Kara’s eyes flash mischievously as she considers her answer.

“It’s probably for the best that the DEO handle that,” Kara says, and then she leans in close to Lena’s ear, whispering conspiratorially. “Just imagine how she’d feel, knowing I had the taste of you on my lips all night.”

A tremor of arousal runs through Lena at the words, and Kara’s right: they need to get out of here, _now._ She turns wordlessly and begins a quick pace back toward the entrance, tugging the blonde firmly along with her. They unlink their fingers before they arrive at the door into the event, and Lena tries not to think about the dozen people milling about the lobby and what they may or may not have been able to hear of the last twenty minutes.

Lena pauses in front of the door to the event, keeping her voice low. “You’ve got five minutes to say goodbyes, Supergirl, and then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”

Kara’s eyes go wide.

“I’ll be done in two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i pulled this chapter from my brain word by word, kicking and screaming. i'm still not entirely happy with the way it turned out, but please let me know what works (and what doesn't! please!) so i can use this to learn and grow and hopefully not struggle so badly to continue stories in the future!
> 
> find me at sapphic-luthor.tumblr.com + let me know what you think


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